It was quite the public place, but apparently the girl had shown him to the back office.“Actually, I’m here to meet a friend,” said Ken. “I do...’t see him though.”“Oh,” she replied, “Are you Mr. Whitestone?”“Yup.”“Please,” she said, her entire demeanor changing to something very deferential, “come this way. Mr. Costa is waiting in one of the private suites.”Ken, more than a little surprised, followed her down a short hallway to a rich set wooden doors. When she opened it, Ken saw Costa sitting. This route is not busy and is my favourite way of getting home off the manic driving on the motorway and she was prancing about looking up and down in both directions, looking very distressed, obviously hoping to see a passing car or something, but also agitated - hopping from one foot to the other, stooping slightly and nipping her legs together.Then she spotted me and trotted towards my Merc Sprinter truck. I swiftly hid the porn magazine I had been having a lazy wank to and zipped up my. More

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